are captain kuchiki and lieutenant kurosaki screwing?
by appleschan
Summary: i/r - sol.
1. Chapter 1

totally random slice of life. also dont know if these guys are alive or not (they are!)

are captain kuchiki and lieutenant kurosaki screwing?

by appleschan

* * *

Some shinigami vandalized a question on the back wall of the training hall of the thirteenth division using a glow-in-the-dark, electric blue marker - true to the fashion of philosophical toilet thoughts: _are Captain Kuchiki and Lieutenant Kurosaki fucking, like, for real? like, how?_

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"Non-issue," dismisses Yumichika Ayasegawa, fanning himself, visibly miffed and leaning against the bar counter, and one who thinks the writing on the wall is an unnecessary, sacrilegious smudge to the beautiful paintworks and restorative wood panelings of the 13th Division training halls and gardens - is the bigger issue compared to the heads of the 13th fucking and breaking some obscure code of conduct (almost nobody pays attention to the code anyway). And after all, aren't Kuchiki and Kurosaki - _rolls eyes_ \- a very common knowledge? "no - not ever-"

"- yeah, obviously for the first one, totally," agrees Ikkaku Madarame, beside Yumichika, both out for _nabe_ during lunch and already had four bottles of lunch-specific _sake_ each, approaching Matsumoto's record of five.

Ikakku thinks, of course, that the issue is the literal size, "as for the second one, do we know for sure Ichigo ain't keeping a tiny dong? well if it's tiny, too bad for him, but Captain Kuchiki - the girl, mind you - should be fine. But if it's a big-ass dick - well, Captain Kuchiki's been on some tough missions - thrown and stabbed and grappled around, you know, I'm sure she can handle some rough reaming. I don't know the point of this vandalism, it's pretty fuckin' obvious."

"Ugh, can you be less vulgar, please? Ikakku? It's not-"

"-don't say it!"

"-pretty," concludes Yumichika nonetheless, then, "I should file a proper report to Captain Kuchiki, or I'll scrub that wall spotless myself and ask for a room in the 13th."

The 11th Division barracks is the closest to the 13th's grounds. The 11th is some dry, sandy 80-percent training grounds that run on testosterone and high on the smell of sour sweat and dead trees and dry blood and grilled meat, compared to the traditional, spacious concrete and wooden houses of the 13th and its sunny, airy, lush gardens which have anti-tuberculosis properties.

The men of the 11th have their share of man-gossipping sometimes. The lifted wartime order allowed for respite, for as many idle days.

The sun is high around lunch, and the tavern takes to becoming more oven-like, and the sake is warmer than usual, but Ikakku is not ready to let go, "- but what if the question is asking about the other Captain Kuchiki? Hmn, makes more sense, yeah?"

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Co-lieutenant of the 1st Division, Nanao Ise, is not sure if she is to feel pity for the new heads of the 13th, the experienced Captain Kuchiki Rukia, and her reasonably-experienced, newly-inducted (unanimously-voted, of course) lieutenant and Sereitei's new resident, Kurosaki Ichigo, there are a lot of indecent rumors up on these two.

She understood the kind of pull they have, _humans_ wrote similar stories, something about defying fate and impossibility, conquering life and death and uniting - and they never made anything public. So naturally, when Kurosaki came to live in the 13th, the rumor mill started to churn and she's received numerous requests to feature those two in the gossip column of the Shinigami Women's Association (SWA) magazine to get them to admit their hot and heavy, teacher-student, human-death god torrid relationship which broke every possible barrier and set up a multi-pronged, fiery class scandal in the afterlife.

Nanao's given an order, of course - _no_. She can't have the other Captain Kuchiki marching up in her office.

"We will report on the progress of the Eastern tower repair, as well as the restoration of the waste collection and disposal systems, I want to make sure all units are ready to report on the day of these buildings' reopening - we cannot further delay Sereitei's core system recalibration. Also, publish all the new forms - mission summary forms, leave forms, I want everybody to familiarize themselves with the new forms," she instructs all her dead-eyed reporters like she's taken their souls. She discards images of the vandalized wall on the 13th and accounts of anonymous sources which contain the words 'rough reaming' and 'beats his meat' and 'squirts like a geiser' into the bin.

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"Rukia, I can, like - you know," Ichigo suggests, holding a basket over his head and rushing to where Rukia is picking and dropping fresh cherries, " _getsuga tenshou_ all these tree branches to make it easier - really, I can -"

Cherry trees could get high, with Rukia's height - _impossible_ , Ichigo thinks surly.

There are now 2 baskets filled with cherries, and there are 5 more trees to go. She's agile enough to hop from one branch to another without breaking eye contact with him, "no, you will not."

"Why not?!"

"You _getsuga tenshou_ -ed everything enough already," Rukia tells him knowingly, she wears no captain haori today, instead, an out-of-season printed _yukata_ , icy snowflakes on an airy, blue summer day - but the way her hair is very black and longer and loosely-tied and there is some half-smirk, half-smile on her face, it could have been _hanami_ in spring. She is barefoot on the trees, and Ichigo carries her sandals, along with the baskets.

"And besides, Ukitake-san planted all these," she shrugs.

Balancing herself well on the branch, she points to something not quite far. Ichigo follows her finger - she points to some cleanly leveled boulder.

"See that boulder? You cleaved that in half," she shouts from the tree-branch, then, "you also cleaved the _sokyoku_ in half!"

"I- wait," outraged, Ichigo frowns at her, "those are circumstantial-!"

"And-" but interrupts Rukia, seriously, "you also almost cleaved my brother in half, I think he is still mad about it."

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Sone rogue SWA reporter is interviewing Renji - who's in a bad, markedly recognizable incognito.

"What are they like when alone together? A credible source said they have a thing for rough reaming? Can you confirm?"

"What? No! They are the most boring shinigami I know, they fumigate their garden, they co-op when doing dishes and they air their laundry clothes every Fridays. What the fuck."

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(they do, in fact, hang and air their laundry every Friday afternoons, then come back to collect the lot on Saturday mid-afternoons and by evening, everything is tucked away and folded and faintly smelled of cedar and jasmine)


	2. Chapter 2

i'm tired of angst, vine, and am freewheeling. wasnt ukitake sick with tb? guest and guest and guest, you are lovely ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨ thank u!

are captain kuchiki and lieutenant kurosaki screwing?

by appleschan

* * *

When Kiyone and Sentarou got married, it did not take them half a day to complete the task: they filed and signed their marriage form and turned it over to the Kuchiki Registry Office for stamping and record keeping without much hassle - except occasionally sniping and kicking each other. They made copies and went to their respective divisions separately - she to the 4th and he to the 13th - to update their database and to personally hand their captains a formal copy. After noon they met again for a celebratory-of-sorts, modest lunch somewhere in Rukongai's district 1. By late noon, Kiyone was helping Sentarou remove the partition they had in their once-shared 3rd Seat's quarters - it did not matter though, would not mean much because they would not stay together even if she has his name, but it is symbolic. By evening, just after cicadas came out - signalling summer, they parted and bade each other goodnight, Rukia remembers Sentarou telling her.

It is terribly uneventful and procedural - getting married in the afterlife: hope the weather is good, hope there isn't a long queue, fill and sign some forms (bring pens!), get an official seal, then update the division database - go home.

"What else did you expect?" asks Ichigo - whose eyebrows are raised in mild affront, as if to ask her, long and hard: _reeeea-lly?_ He plays gardener today, busily tending to the 13th's tomato loams while on break.

Rukia could see him from the wide openings of her office's _shoji_ , he's an outstanding profile under the summer-blue sky and against white walls and some greens - orange and black, really dense, but vivid. Ichigo is putting up wooden support stakes for the vines. She chose to do her mid-morning report readings on her second office - the one not facing the bleak buildings of Sereitei. His 13th lieutenant badge is neatly folded on the side of her table.

On her far left, if she strains, Kiyone and Sentarou are barely visible, but their arguments - " _no! You can't shit in the 13th anymore! Go to the 4th_ ", " _and_ _why not?_!" " _you clog toilets here!_ " - are loud. Ichigo knows about them, too.

"Are you expecting some grand wedding ceremonies?" Ichigo follows-up, pauses briefly and looks over at the pair, then, after a heartbeat, pointedly at her.

There's something about on his face - something playful about, and his head is tilted to the side - _look_ \- as if pointing to the towers where repairs and constructions are ongoing.

Other than that, Rukia doesn't have to think long. Soul Society doesn't afford its soldiers the pageantry of a wedding. She doesn't distress over it either, it is just a mild, vague sort of curiosity - simplified, how militaristic, how procedural - Soul Society treats marriage as procedural, yet, there's something markedly fundamental about it.

Ichigo, uncharacteristically patient, is waiting for her answer.

"No," Rukia answers simply, then thinks of the mundane paperwork and signatures and filing as opposed to grand wedding ceremonies, "it is enough."

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Rukia finds that she does not have to do much to encourage her members to warm up to Ichigo - human boy, intruder, disrupter, _ryoka_. He is well-known without question throughout Soul Society, but surprisingly well-liked and well-admired in her division on a level just around acquaintanceship and pleasant conversation and mentorship. (all on his own even if he scowls a lot)

The 11th - their unruly neighbors - sees him as a thug out to get bloodied and roughed up every time he passes their division, a _'meh'_ shinigami unable to go stealth by the 2nd, an uncultured swine by the wealthy residents - the _Shiba_ House, still is, grappling ways to reinstate itself, a curious, specially rare specimen by the 12th, and a frequent patient by the 4th (not entirely true but they built him a secured clinic room anyway to deal with his unnatural tendencies several levels below ground). Her division members, on the other hand, know him as the man who - despite his immense power and feats - rises up early and: switches off the night lights every early morning when it's still dark; sweeps scattered leaves from the front steps of the division gates; receives the early mail and document delivery from other divisions; dusts the 13th's storage room full of practice weapons, and boils tea leaves all before everyone is awake. Then he'd be waiting for his trainees with his _bokken_ ready for the day's first training round outdoors.

(but Rukia knows, before he leaves for the division every early morning - that he does so much more, he goes out for a run, leaves a small snack bowl for the stray cats, feeds the _koi_ , and then comes to greet her with his scowling and some breakfast dish Yuzu taught him to do then he'd be smug and goad about her inability to cook and feed herself without him even if he actually hijacked her first. she'd punch him)

So there is slight flutter of something close to sunshine when Rukia hears about him from small talks and passing commentary usually in the vein of " _he must have grown up in a good home in the human world, to have such thoughtful habits_ " and " _that, or he's desperately trying to impress someone._ " Rukia is glad Ichigo is finding his footing in her division.

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(Ichigo fiddled helplessly when inducted the first time - though he tried his best to mask it. That day was the start of summer, and he could not stop tapping his foot. He might have stumbled, too, on his way out to the little podium set up for him, when Rukia issued a quick, _empowering_ disembowelment threat and pushed him. He sputtered a few times introducing himself)

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There's some ridiculous clamor from Ichigo's swordsmanship trainees during the second round that morning: that he and Captain Kuchiki - the girl - should duel for proper demonstration.

"That's all," they swear.

"No blood," they swear as well.

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Rukia is going over the division reports Ichigo's given her; everything courses through him before it gets to her desk. Mostly, these are compilations of requisitions for new pipelines, the communal bathroom lacking fifty tiles, outline of wall repair costs, order for 5,000 new lightbulbs, billing from the 12th's maintenance of the antituberculosis air filters, requests for extra exhaust fans in the women's quarters and inclusion of the human dish _spaghetti_ into the division menu, and grouting and declogging supplies - tedious, unremarkable everyday things that never crossed their mind during wartime.

Rukia puts the division report down, she's seen the budget report a day ago, and she would have to haggle with the 12th to bring down their overcharges, slash the bulb order to about half, and then hold a referendum on how many actually know about _spaghetti_ enough to include it in the general menu. She won't have to worry much about wall repair, it's the cheapest construction service in Seireitei.

Sighing, she reads the past 24 hours' mission summary report next (there are more after). In particular, Ichigo does his mission report with surprising neatness and clarity the province of amateur, fresh-off-the-academy shinigami. Whereas her older division members would limit their report to large scribblings of " _yeah, I killed it,_ " Ichigo would hunt for the specifics: time, location, type of hollow - its victims, proximity to civilians, methods used complete with a bar graph incidence and updated daily, weekly and monthly tracking reports and recommendations such as increased patrolling and routine reinforcement of _kido_ defenses and surprise drill exercises to weed out slackers - the sort that tells her he has a promising desk job career in her division - only that, Ichigo is a massive brawler, too.

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"No," Ichigo's tone is firm and measured (and somewhat patient) - there's a batch of collective disappointed groans in front of him.

Sentarou and Kiyone, who are both at the 13th watching Ichigo (in Sentarou's case, he's assisting his lieutenant) join in, and said at the same time, "you two really should."

But Sentarou, still picking a fight, turns to Kiyone and whispers, "why are you copying me? and why the fuck are you still here? Are you slacking? Don't you have pigs to heal or something?"

"Oh, you want me to heal you?" Kiyone whispers back.

" _No_ ," Ichigo reiterates to his trainees, but hearing the two quietly bicker, he turns to them and adds, "please stop that," to which both answered a sharp "yes!" Kiyone comes back to eat lunch with Sentarou everyday. Despite his protests, Ichigo seen them huddled together, quietly sharing food. He makes no further comment.

Ichigo considers the time, it's almost noon, he will probably pull a working lunch and Rukia would do so as well - she'd be busy - particularly all day, and there'd be meetings and readings and other stuff captains do, like read more reports and attend more meetings. She could not join him for lunch, or even do a demonstration.

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"Hmn," Rukia appears to consider the play-fight suggestion, then, "that wouldn't be so bad," she tells the trainees kindly.

Ichigo, meanwhile, stiffens and vehemently shakes his head, _no_.

By four in the afternoon, Rukia came out to pay Ichigo's trainees a visit and see the rest of the division. She chose a shaded spot under the tree - something Ukitake did before, and quietly watched them for a bit.

Under protocol, Ichigo would be a step behind her - badge and sword and all - and escort her wherever she goes, but she signals to him to stay put and continue. While he's been obedient, his trainees, however, have become disobedient little sacks of shit for asking Rukia to play fight with him.

"No," he yells at her, as she rises from her seating position, with a warning look. _This will not end well_.

 _For you, probably not_ \- a confident Rukia seems to tell him, her eyes are vivid violet against the afternoon blue hue. She takes these things too seriously, anything to prove herself - even play fights - or she's just really spoiling for a fight, aiming to draw his blood. She's probably thinking of putting him through several walls. Wall repairs are the cheapest anyway, she could make room for budget adjustments.

"Ichigo," Rukia calls. Already, she is drawing her _zanpakutō_ and turning towards him (to the applause of their division members). He doesn't hear her say anything else, but her sword is already on released form. Already as well, the atmosphere is shifting, colder, bluer, the sky turns dimmer and icicles start to form on trees and plants and walls around him. His senses are used to focusing on the smallest movement in relation to his surroundings; he observes his would-be opponent: a flash of silver and white ribbons and long black hair and white _haori_ billowing into the wind - then she goes out of his sight.

 _Ahh_ , remembering a familiar feeling - a kind of excitement coursing through his blood, he is tensing in anticipation, maybe he's spoiling for a fight, too. He tracks her incoming _reiatsu_ and reaches for his _zanpakutō_ fast - then blocks her sword with a resounding metal _clang_ halfway a blink.

But Rukia is laughing at him behind the cross swords, like a stifled bell, but mirthful. "Heh, fine," he smirks and then it's his turn to disappear.

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"I didn't think it'd be this easy to convince Captain Kuchiki to a play fight - she's always _sooo_ composed, _sooo_ elegant!" a shinigami said, "and so pretty, like a marble."

"I think, I think...they're spoiling for a fight," another one said, then, "...and probably a fuck or two - did you see the eye-fuck before she pounced? You know how high-energy, post-fight sex is great, right? Dick-drilling, like a jackhammer. All this anger, and energy, yeah, great stuff."

"Oh, so you think, they are, like, screwing?"

"How can they _not_? Why are they even together almost all the time?"

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"You do a lot of reading."

"And you do a lot of bitching," Rukia tells him, retracing their steps back.

Ichigo is nursing his right cheek while repeatedly complaining of a nasty punch Rukia used to catch him off guard and destabilize his otherwise impenetrable defense and subsequently declare herself the winner.

Your punch is more potent in shinigami form, he mumbles at her, we're doing _zanjutsu_ , you cheat.

"What's that?" Rukia, for her part, is nursing her right wrist, his blocks are as good as attacks, immovable and solid and equally destructive.

"I said you do a lot of reading."

"Yes." Rukia is looking at a report (left hand), a briefing from the 1st Division.

"Serious?"

"Not really, 1st Division Co-Lieutenant Okikiba is announcing his retirement within a year, Co-Lieutenant Ise will fully assume the position, all queries will be redirected to her starting tomorrow," Rukia answers evenly.

"Ahh."

They're a quiet for the rest of the way. The moon has not yet risen, but it is dark enough that the lampposts lining the road are beginning to glow. They are heading to the 13th's residential area.

"You should be in the 11th, ask for a transfer," Ichigo says some time after they pass the residential gate of the 13th, still nursing his cheek, "you're a lady barbarian."

Rukia stops walking, and narrows her eyes at him, "you are not going to let this go?" They engage in an intense glaring contest, which ends with her, "I will match that big, ugly bruise," she tells him dryly.

" _Try_ ," he dares, taking full advantage of his height.

They are now in front of her residence - more modest but still traditional and sprawling and surrounded by trees like the private quarter she has within the Kuchiki compound, it has 5 rooms, a _koi_ pond, a garden, a vegetable patch (where Ichigo plants his lettuce and probably sings to them too to encourage growth), and when the time is right, a good view of the moon. The 13th's residence is an uphill land.

"Later," Rukia promises him fervently, and then slides open her _shoji_ , she leaves it open for him to follow.

"-I'm not your maid!" he reminds her after he removes his _geta,_ leaves into the _genkan_ facing the doorwayand enters her residence. He knows his way, he goes straight to the kitchen and takes out an ice tray and empties it all into a bag and reaches for some towels.

"Nobody told you to be," Ichigo hears Rukia's muffled answer from the other room. But before he leaves the kitchen, he has put low-fire on her stove, a pan where last night's ramen is reheating, he's also added eggs and ginger and chives to reinforce the taste. He is not her maid, at least, not in name.

Rukia, meanwhile, takes off her _haori_ and folds it neatly into the laundry basket specifically for large whites - Ichigo's doing. There are 6 different baskets for 6 different categories. It'll make laundry easier, he said. She's always been a neat shinigami, because she never had much possessions to begin with to worry about them being disordered. She accused Ichigo of over reacting, it's just being proper he said. On Fridays, they air laundries.

Then, she goes on to open her _shoji_ as wide as possible, and boil some _hasucha_ tea for Ichigo, something soothing for his bruised cheek. She also went to the _ofuro_ and open the tap to prepare water for bath.

Ichigo enters her living room, towels and compress on one hand. Rukia is already seated on the tatami mat, checking the tea's temperature. Her hair is already tied up. All around her are open _shojis_ \- it is a good house with a good view, one side - Seireitei and on the other, a clear case of the horizon, fading swirls of violet and orange, and then, dark blue. There are very many trees, and cicadas.

"Come here," she tells, and Ichigo grunts, sputters, but sits in front of her. He's tired, probably so very tired, but he keeps his shoulders up and his posture good and he looks at her straight, he is handsome and broad-shouldered. She takes his towels and compress - wrapping the compress with the towel - she carefully dabs it on his face, to his protest. "It's for your wri-"

"No, for you," she finishes. Her wrist hurt still, but Ichigo is sporting a bruise, she's clearly the winner anyway.

"Tomorrow, let's have lunch together - we didn't meet today. We can have _okonomiyaki_ \- do you know how to -? Did Yuzu…?" Rukia asks, still running the compress on his face.

"Yeah, but you don't have cabbage, you run out yesterday."

"How do you know?"

"I always re-stock your kitchen, idiot," Ichigo huffs, tilting his head and letting her "...I do groceries enough for both of us - which is not until tomorrow afternoon, and I have to get you _mirin_ as well, and _aburaage_ , and _bonito_ , and some _aonori -_ but I can do it morning instead, if you want your food..."

Rukia pauses, thoughtful, she says, "I want my _okonomiyaki_."

"Bitch."

But Rukia finds something to tease him with, equally mirthful as she was when they were clashing earlier, "why don't you just stay at home, water your plants - sing to them, cook, let me go to work, and wait for me dutifully while knitting since you are so into it."

"Can't," he answers simply, confident, and smirking again - his eyes are very amber, "you can't risk not having me, I'm such a good lieutenant."

"Oh?" Rukia's eyebrows furrow, but resumes her activity, "how come?"

"I go to work early and I'm reliable, I turn in reports in time and detailed, too, I train your snot-faced newbies everyday. I go to meetings with you and stay accountable, provide you with notes, basically your errand-boy, your mailman! And when you need me to jump first, I will jump first. I am setting a good and responsible example."

Rukia has never heard much praise in a self-evaluation before (it's all true, though).

"Then become a captain," she suggests - tries, putting down the compress, and prepares for a healing _kido_ \- they discovered that this way works so much better.

He doesn't answer for a long time, letting her heal his bruised cheek and listening to the steady hum of her breathing.

"No," he says, sincere and quietly, when she's done, "I like working with you."

Ichigo doesn't add: I also like knowing where you are and what you're doing and who's annoying you and what you do during breaks - because it sounds creepy, but he does really like working with her. He also doesn't tell: he makes sure his reports are always neat and informative so she'll have everything she needs when making decision and he'd be behind her and be able to follow through. He knows Rukia wants to do further reforms in Seireitei, so he'd like for her to leave her office well-satisfied and be well-rested at night, so she will accomplish such things. It's a kind of loyalty she doesn't need to ask, he'll give.

Ichigo is meant for much, much better things, grander - they say, glory of a victor, hero of all worlds, maybe the Royal Realm, or beyond. But he's a lieutenant now, with a measly pay and lifetime hazard deployment. If he chooses to go, maybe she will be sad, but she will not stop him and her heart will remember him.

"I understand," she accepts, still, it is a pleasant thought, reaffirming.

Then, "Rukia, we will always co-op," he says, half-rising to get up and prepare their leftover ramen dinner, as if aiming to ambush her with a question. He reminds her of a child seeking reassurance - _promise me? Cross your heart_?

"We will always co-op," Rukia agrees, then he gets up and then she makes her way back to the bathroom and turns off the water tap. Like a child - _yes_ and _yes_ -

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"You can spend the night here," it is a trailing suggestion, Rukia says, putting down her finished ramen bowl. As her lieutenant, Ichigo is likewise given a residence of his own, a block and trees away from her own, it is not very far. He likes to stay in her residence.

"Will you punch me in my sleep?" Ichigo asks, probably in both good and bad humor. There's good enough reason to be wary of her. He, too, is done eating.

"I will give you a fighting chance," Rukia smiles, reassures him nonetheless, radiant and pretty and graceful on her nightclothes - after having taken a quick bath, "and take a bath, please."

He is feeling lightheaded, the _sake_ , maybe. His father gifted them a lot of bottles, numerous and strong enough to sedate the whole of 13th for five days.

"I'll hold you to that, Rukia."

She nods, she took none of the _sake_ herself, her brother warned her against them - against _any_ alcohol that did not from their private brewery. In actuality, Byakuya is correct to warn her of such drink, Isshin took them out of deal from a _Rukongai_ equivalent of a _sake_ -moonshiner - hauled from a wagon. In return, Byakuya gifted them a bottle from his own private collection spanning millenniums in age.

Ichigo thinks of something to do, the evening has set, and full, moon-viewing would be good.

"I'll wash the dishes," Ichigo says after, already piling the bowls and plates.

"I'll dry them," Rukia says. They co-op when doing dishes.

Before Kiyone and Sentaro turned in their marriage form for record keeping, Ichigo and Rukia turned in theirs first.

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(secretly)

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some months back:

Marching onto the 6th Division ground where some low-ranking shinigami, builders, and trainees gather, "everyone-!" yells Renji, all heads turn to him, then he jerks his thumb onto the direction of the gate, "-fuck off."

Renji is told to clear the 6th Division grounds and wait for representatives from the 1st - some pesky, handwritten detailed memo he received this morning supposedly from his captain - do so inconspicuously, it noted, but he doubted: yeah, Kuchiki Byakuya sending him memo notes to be discreet.

The 6th Division, which the Kuchiki family traditionally heads, also houses the historical archive and registry in Soul Society. Naturally, they keep records of those who got hitched and keep their marriage forms as well.

A marriage is to take place, nothing grand, just signing of some official documents.

"Well, when we're not out dying on the battlefield, we're usually stewing here, sorting forms - we have incredible patience for this shit," Renji is telling Co-Lieutenant Ise, the first to appear on the 6th. Normally, she'd let members come hand her their marriage forms for documentation but a captain and her lieutenant is getting married, the first in their long history - on their wish, there shall be no commotion other than what's necessary. Nanao trekked to the 6th to collect their marriage form personally.

"Yes, of all the divisions, we find the 6th to be the most diligent when it comes to report submissions," she tells him, chalked-faced and high-brow, so stoic, a record book tucked under her arm, "please know that the Captain Commander agrees so, your division's efforts are wholly recognized."

"Yeah, good, but we have a totally different motivation..." Renji tells her darkly: his captain will shred them if they don't meet deadlines, "we totally can't smear the name, or we are so fucked."

Captain Commander Kyoraku Shunsui then materialized, clad in his _haori_ and choice of a woman's kimono, and greets them kindly, "ahh, good day, Renji-kun, Nanao-chan - as always, you are early."

"You're just late," she snaps, "shameful, and unbecoming, and drunk."

"Mahh, please don't be that way, Nanao-chan," the Captain Commander tips his hat, as if in apology. A few days ago, he asked the bride and groom if could attend, to witness a "celebration of pure love after so much war and brutal deaths," he said, "it's beautifully poetic," he said.

Voice low, he subsides in melancholy and reminiscence, "Jushiro would want to he here, even if they are just signing their marriage form. He would have been very happy for them."

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Renji leads them to the office, some far off the division, past the usual registry offices where rank and file members file their forms. This one has white walls and no windows and too bleak, a table and 3 chairs - clearly occupants are not meant to linger.

"Renji."

"Ah, Captain!" Byakuya Kuchiki is already seated in front of a table, where three different forms are arranged and no pens. Behind Renji, Byakuya - more stoic and pristine - wordlessly acknowledges the 1st Division representatives with an inch-high nod.

He is the chairman - whoever the current clan head is - and he'll personally attend to this marriage, and affix his signature and the family seal. Aside from his, the form will also require the signatures of the witness to the bride, Renji, and witness to the groom -

"WELL HELLO EVERYONE!" booms the groom's father, kicking open the registry office door, behind him, a wagon of suspicious looking _sake_ bottles, "s' my boy not here?!" he demands, looking around and rubbing his chin contemplatively, "now, where shall I-!"

"We're here, don't bother," says a gruff voice.

"We're supposed to arrive earlier - we just forgot to bring pens, so went back," explains the bride.

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Co-Lieutenant Ise, after issuing a formal congratulatory note, swore she'll keep her SWA reporters out of their marriage trail and kill leads immediately. The bride and groom handed her the officially signed copy.

"Mah, mah, Nanao-chan, won't that be such a killjoy?" comments the captain commander, beside her, smiling.

"You know what a killjoy is, Captain Commander? When shinigamis don't render or receive services they ought to because of some nonsense delay such as gossips."

"Nanao-chan, you will never get a husband with that uptight attitude," he tells her patiently, winking, "and I would really like to see you get married, too, for my brother, you see-"

"Don't leer at me," she dismisses him and sets to leave the office, thanking the 6th's Captain before turning on her heels. It's actually his request to keep off her reporters from the bride and groom, he'd like to afford them a quiet life.

There's a clearly a threat as well - _if not_ \- Captain Kuchiki has said but it's lingering, ' _if not'_ as if he'll order her reporters' assassination or pull strings to cut their magazine's funding if she failed to keep leads from appearing. Of the two, she could not afford to lose funding.

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"You need to be informed," Byakuya is telling the groom and the bride, Renji stands behind him, nodding vigorously. They both know the strict policies of handling registration.

"- likewise, a divorce form needs to be witnessed and filed within the registry office for official seal stamp and record keeping," Byakuya says, impassive, while Renji shows the neat-grid divorce form and points to blanks they have to fill up as Byakuya speaks.

"-the hell are you planning their divorce for, boy?!" it's Isshin, who's probably a hundred years older than Byakuya.

"I am not, this is standard protocol, both parties need to be informed of their options," answers the 6th's Captain coolly and looks at the Shiba/Kurosaki patriarch head on - they're not to be intimidated.

"But they will not!"

"You might want to reconsider that, of the 10,000 marriages my clan has hosted for over 500 years, 7,000 came back to revoke their form - that is 70 percent chance of your son's marriage to my sister failing. Under protocol, we routinely give divorce forms-"

"Fuck you, Byakuya-boy."

" _-along_ with birth registration forms for any future offsprings to save time, if applicable."

"OH?" this seems to pacify Isshin, "birth registration forms?!"

"I am aware of Kurosaki's lineage," says Byakuya, unsentimental.

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"You guys have shit ton of forms," Ichigo tells Renji when the latter drags him out for some man-talk, he suspects.

"You have no idea, Ichigo - we have a disruption-proof vault for these fucking papers. Captain really gets pissy when everything's all blown and stuff."

"Well, I'm fine with paperworks-" Ichigo starts, shrugging.

Then Renji turns serious, "listen-"

"I know," Ichigo puts a hand on his shoulder, firm, "I know, _I know_ , don't say it." It's about Rukia, "it's about Rukia, I know, I'll take-"

"I know that," Renji nods, his eyes slipping to where Rukia is, standing beside her brother, they talked, "otherwise, captain won't let you, you know, marry her. Man, skip the sap," he says, laughing, "I know, Ichigo, you'll take care of her, but do you know about these forms?"

"What?"

"These forms, Ichigo! The captain gave you 3 birth registration forms, look!" Renji shoves him 3 stapled forms, then he muses, "you know, we usually just give one. Probably one brat for the Kuchiki clan, one brat for your clan, then one brat you two can keep-"

" _Renji_ ," cuts Ichigo, he's probably learning patience now, no child of his will go to any clan, "Renji, go fuck yourself."

"Ha! You know what?" Renji laughs, grinning toothily, wicked, "I probably would."

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Rukia remembers, it is terribly uneventful and procedural - getting married in the afterlife: hope the weather is good - it had been, while not the bluest day on that summer, it had colors, mostly vivid green, the trees that surround her home and orange and black, and sundown; hope there isn't a long queue - there wasn't; fill and sign some forms - there were 3 forms but she and Ichigo got rid of the second form but kept the third form and its 3 copies; then they got an official seal - her brother, she could have sworn, smiled that day, then updated the division database, then, after everything, they went home - her house - and spent time together, just like any other day.

There was no need for a grand wedding ceremony, they have what they need: the grocery list for tomorrow, division and mission reports, _okonomiyaki_ for lunch tomorrow, laundry piles which need airing on Friday, moon-viewing, each other, and home - these are enough.


	3. Chapter 3

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One Saturday morning, Ichigo returns home from a 3-month mission. He's no less tall, nor less broad, but still slumping and ungraceful and annoyed like a cat out of water - turning up on her house that way. It's wholly understandable though, it's a day later than scheduled.

Rukia looks over his way, a piece of carp food in her hand - she's bending over the _koi_ pond, and then muses. The delay must be because of either Hanatarou (order-required 4th Division escort) or Ganju, who routinely tags along because he's tasked by his sister to ensure the next head of Shiba House always comes back properly - all to Ichigo's irritation, as if he needs chaperoning.

(but really, it's just to torture Ganju and slowly acquaint Ichigo with the House)

 _Ahh_ , sighs Rukia, _he is home_. She puts the lid back on the carp food jar, settles herself back on her home's _engawa_ , in front of her outdoor _chabudai_ then returns to reading her division reports. Ichigo approaches soon, grumbles, slumps beside her, then yawns. His feet hanging off. There are holes in his socks, very rugged, yet he smells of laundry powder and sunshine.

Rukia, of course, has been sending Ichigo in a lot of missions in between worlds.

Rukia, of course, remains impartial and does not take to pulling strings to benefit her or her husband: Ichigo will go wherever he's instructed to, the length and frequency of his trips notwithstanding - some of which could stretch, _stretched_ , for years. These trips are, after all, part of a lieutenant's long list of duties. Ichigo understands.

Ichigo's travel-mission reports occupied shelves and shelves in her office, he is a well-traveled homebody (so is Ganju, and Bonnie-chan).

"We almost cooked Bonnie," Ichigo starts simply, grumpy, in between yawning and looking at the sky, it's a little hazy for a Saturday morning.

Rukia looks at him, her hair is up on a bun and she is dressed in white _yukata_ with summer flower prints. Thoughtfully, she says, "you all almost cooked Bonnie the last time, too, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that…"

"Yeah well, really, this time," he answers grimly, meeting her stare for the first time in months, "I came close to cutting her-"

"Came close?" Rukia's eyebrows are raised, she's put down her papers and listens intently to her husband, taking in his presence and easing into their casual comfort together. They always start like this when he gets home, some small story he wants to share with her. It's her way of knowing he's been well.

"We couldn't do it though. Hanatarou was crying and spraying snot everywhere, Ganju - well, Ganju was hysterical and apologetic to Bonnie, he told her he'll never eat her piglets or boar-lets or whatever back at home - he's hogged all the ration by the way. We were starving, you know - in the end, we didn't."

"I see," responds Rukia, amused, then she smirks, "but can't you be resourceful? What about your superior cooking skills you're always lording over me?"

"There were only rocks and sands and some dead trees - I can't cook those!" Ichigo complains, flailing his arms at his wife, "and I don't eat dirt."

"Hmm, I suppose," is only Rukia's response, shrugging, and making a mental note to increase their ration by 30 percent, including contingency, to spare the boar of any more future, unwilling ill-intentions.

Ichigo, from slump-sitting on the house's engawa, stretches wide and lays down on the polished wood, sighing loudly from the relaxed muscle kinks on his back. The hazy Saturday is fine, the sun is not too prickly hot on his skin, and the breeze is alright.

Beside him, Rukia quietly goes back to her papers.

They do not miss or worry about each other often. It is a strange thing, as such, the lack of pageantry when one of them returns - from wherever mission or meeting, as if they did not marry. It is not lack of care, but something inexplicable still, perhaps some faith that the other will be alright, perhaps some deeper connection.

Some minutes after, Ichigo asks a question he knows too well the answer. "You've been alright?" he asks quietly, eyes closed and blindly reaching for her hand - in which Rukia catches. She squeezes his callous hand twice in response. _Yes yes_

 _Ahh,_ his heart knows home.

They always start like this, some small talks, some quiet questions, when he gets home or when she gets home. Maybe not as much - not as romantic, but it's their _tadaima_ and _okaeri_.

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 _"Please don't send me back there soon. I need to fix the damage you made to my plants. I saw them, there were burned holes in the ground. What did you do?"_

 _"I water them everyday."_

 _"How come they're burned, then?"_

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author's note: hi.


	4. Chapter 4

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Outside of house chores and garden trimming and groceries, which Ichigo assumes full command of, he does not exert much control on what his wife does. He does not hover on her, meddle on her activities work and off-work, and has no qualms on whoever she speaks with (though he knows the names of the guys who deliver their milk and house mail and usually spies on them in guarded amusement - while crouched in bushes - as they attempt to low-key flirt with his oblivious wife).

Rukia responds in kind: not meddling in his business outside (not that there are many: occasionally out for a drink, that sort, or roughhousing), lets him stay on a riverbank on some days to think, and joins him for tea on quiet afternoons - or for liquor, during late nights. They brawl, too, on some mornings, with her drawing his blood and tearing his muscles first. Likewise, she is on a first-name basis with an 8th seat officer (of a division he doesn't remember) who doubles as the president of an appreciation club set up for him. Rukia invites the members to meet in their division compound weekly, gives them free matcha and rice cakes, to annoy him.

But just the same: they let each other know where they are, and make no demands of each other's attention, he keeps the meal warm for her - as she does for him, and at night, when he climbs to her bed, or she climbs to his, and they hold hands, they are assured that theirs is a shared life.

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Some time after lunch:

"Would you like to meet my friends, Ichigo?" asks Rukia quietly, unmoving on her futon as she reviews their division's budget summary report for the month.

Ichigo is busy filing folders at the corner of her office. Behind him are fully parted shoji screens, where Seireitei is quietly humming with life, or dead life.

Ichigo pauses, looks over - blinks blankly at his wife across the room twice, thrice - she looks up and blinks blankly at him too but offers none much else. He resumes sorting through her filing cabinet when she looks down, he makes no question and she remains quiet anyway.

" _Grhhr_ ," he grunts at her, a mean rumble coming from his throat - _alright_.

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Ichigo safely counts her friends as his as well, which isn't a very large circle, he would know everyone.

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a/n: this isn't that ch 4 i meant to lengthen.


	5. Chapter 5

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Some time after lunch:

"Would you like to meet my friends, Ichigo?" asks Rukia quietly, unmoving on her futon as she reviews their division's budget summary report for the month.

Ichigo is busy filing folders at the corner of her office. Behind him are fully parted shoji screens, where Seireitei is quietly humming with life, or dead-like life.

Ichigo pauses, looks over - blinks blankly at his wife across the room twice, thrice - she looks up and blinks blankly at him too but offers none much else. He resumes sorting through her filing cabinet when she looks down, he makes no question and she remains quiet anyway.

" _Grhhr_ ," he grunts at her, a mean rumble coming from his throat - _alright_.

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After work hours, Rukia is waiting idly for Ichigo at the Division's gate, sitting on the lowest step - having finished reading all the reports, approving all requisitions, and completing all her scheduled visits to the trainees.

Beside her is a small rucksack filled with several brushes, a wooden bucket, a ladle, and a bag of candies. She's off her haori, only a simpler violet and black furisode.

The daylight during summer is always overlong, it's still powder blue - only hinting of the faintest indigo at the easternmost horizon - at 5:00 in the afternoon. Summertime is good, it brings warm winds and bright days but a few minutes of rain would be welcomed well. Rukia waits a little more.

Ichigo comes soon, his shadow is not quite pronounced on the pavement yet. "Hey," he says, stopping in front of her, ready.

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They pass the Seireitei gates on foot. Foregoing shunpo, she is leading a step ahead, humming quietly but terribly out of tune.

"Quit it," he says from behind her, scowling, but not really meaning it.

"Endure it," she says, sing-song, locks her hands behind her then hums some more.

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The first of Rukongai districts comes on sight - the colorful and noisy part, with bright fruit and ramen stalls and various hauls for visiting shinigami. Ichigo is almost expecting a dinner out. Instead, Rukia turns left towards the forest.

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It is a strange feeling, when she takes his hand and excitedly points to a cliff up ahead. Below and not very far, there appears to be an outskirt of a far-removed Rukongai district, a dry, depressed part.

But Rukia brightens and her eyes have more smile in them and pulls his hand.

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Ichigo understands when they reach the cliff: there's a dilapidated shack, and a number of graves with inconsistently shaped headstones by the edge - the sundown dapples them all gold and light orange.

Ichigo could see, upon closer look, some are really not headstones, but sticks banded together, a fishhook, some scarves tied to wood panelings, wooden toys - there could be 16 or so. He bends over one - this was work of unskilled children burying their dead and marking the spots with mementos.

"We can't afford headstones," Rukia says quietly, solemn and gentle, sitting down and taking off her rucksack and putting out her packed stuff one by one, "and we can't construct one properly, and all our friends died before we learned how to properly write their names - me and Renji."

(of course, before him, Rukia lived a life of her own, too: this is a quiet invitation for a glance)

Ichigo sits beside her, cross legged, reaches out and helps her in laying out her cleaning materials and offerings without a word. There is something about it, as high-ranked as a captain and as elegant as a lady that she is now, that she would not wear her _haori_ , or even use _shunpo_ and labor using only her bare hands in tending to her dead friends' graves that he finds deeply respecting.

Though Ichigo never directly asked his wife or Renji of their time in the slums, he knows enough albeit unwittingly- too many passing whispers he's heard, more than half were in awe, the rest were in disdain. He's never paid as much attention to them, he'd rather hear from her.

"Ah..." says his wife, a bit surprised when he takes the ladle, "you would help me?"

"Didn't you tell me you'd introduce me to them?" he quips.

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"I lived with boys, you know," Rukia says, opening the shack's door and revealing a number of cots inside, "some twenty or so boys," she adds, looking pointedly at him, mischievous. They agreed to a quick stop inside the shack before leaving.

"Heh," but Ichigo is unaffected, "is that why you punch like one?"

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a/n: my most recent airbnb hosts - a retired couple managing a farm in the countryside - reminded me of how i portray i/r in my stories, so i remembered i have something to write.


	6. Chapter 6

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Some years into the future:

"One hundred and thirty years into marriage...and I'm my son just proved his dick works," says Isshin one Saturday, relieved, and visibly celebratory - so celebratory that he took out a 1,000 year old _sake_ hidden in the cellar of the old Shiba house.

"Maaahh, that long, Isshin-kun?" inquires Captain Commander Kyoraku, already drunk three sheets to the wind at 10 in the morning, but impressively coherent.

"Yeah, I'm ready to ask you to, I dunno, court martial them for not making babies for their respective clans," shrugs Isshin, then pours himself and his companion another shot of warm _sake_ , "you understand an old man's pain, right?"

"Isshin-kun, we can't court martial soldiers for not having sex and getting pregnant," explains Shunsui calmly, but raises his glass nonetheless, "but yes, I understand."

The two sat on a patch of green field hidden away in the First Division compound, the wind is good and the sky is clear. It's the beginning of Hanami season in the afterlife. It is second nature for the Captain Commander to observe the blooming cherry blossoms every time, Isshin, it turns out, takes to the peaceful viewing easily, but preferably with good few bottles of _sake_ so he could sleep after the first hour.

"I'm old," sighs Isshin, watching the white and pink petals swirl and the trees whisper, he sat on the same spot and watched the same trees for more than a hundred years since they came back and each viewing was never the same. Then he pours himself another shot, "but alas! I shall live to have little Kurosakis running around _my_ household soon - fuck Byakuya, his clan, and his big ass house."

"Ahh, Byakuya-kun, I invited him to join us today," adds Shunsui, amused, "but he said he has a number of personal Hanami gardens, there'd be no need to leave the confines of his estate."

"Ha! That little shit," bursts Isshin, his eyes narrowed to slits, and he tells Shunsui darkly, " _I know_ he's done preparing titles and constructing estates for each of his sister's future children. He changed his clan's line of succession, I saw it! And he even forced his clan members to agree! Clearly, he's going to name them as heirs - I'll fight that prick for custody of my grandchildren."

"-I think the children should stay with their parents, Isshin-kun-" interjects Shunsui mildly, trying to pacify Isshin, but at the same time, amused at the idea of Byakuya letting Ichigo's son or daughter lead his clan.

But of course, Shunsui already knows a big, potentially messy, custody battle is unavoidable where two of his captains, a past captain and one special case are involved. There is currently no set of legislation to decide such matter, he wonders if he should consult with Nanao, others, and draft one, including a mandatory baby-making rule for married great noble heirs who serve in the Gotei 13.

"Isshin, how did you find out again? They told you?" asks Shunsui mildly after some minutes, who thinks it is best to steer the conversation from Byakuya and custody battles.

"Oh no, they didn't! I went snooping this early morning when I felt a tiny spark of a new reiatsu," answers Isshin, who, for some reason, is easily back to being celebratory.

"You went spying?"

"I went to _check_ , I'm good in tracking my family's different reiatsu signatures," Isshin clarifies, "I simply _felt_ there's a new one."

"Hmm, I suppose they did not believe you...?" Shunsui asks.

"Nah, didn't tell them anything," Isshin snorts, "they don't even know it yet, they'll realize this afternoon, tops."

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	7. Chapter 7

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Ichigo is preparing to come home after an eight-year mission in the human world.

He is sitting on a street/park bench, overlooking a 300-year old, sprawling _karesansui_ garden encased in glass - _preserved in 2035_ the sharp chrome plaque flashes. It is very late in the evening.

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A young, human woman, black-haired and slightly inebriated but well-dressed and clean-cut, happens to wander into the same place as Ichigo.

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The woman slumps beside Ichigo, and he nods at her direction in recognition- a curt hello, and her eyes linger a bit unwittingly. She could tell he is the kind of man most girls daydream about - once they get past the cute boys phase: older, fit, and handsome.

She thinks of the city park - a considerable stretch of a city street and garden fully preserved, behind glass and converted to an open museum - and concludes it's an unusual venue for a man like him to go to. (it's actually unusual for anyone to go anywhere anymore)

"Mister," the woman starts, observing his keen interest in the park, "do you study the human past, are you a professor? I come here frequently, I -I...I'm a student, if you can't tell."

Ichigo considers the question. Human study, Rukia's interest in it never waivered. Fifty years ago, many stopped publishing books made of paper, some still do in old temples. She never appreciated the thin, sleek devices he brought her, they were impersonal, she said, he agreed.

"No," he said.

"So, waiting for somebody then?" the student presses.

"Somebody - something, a gate." Ichigo answers easily - he does not mind much how the student would perceive it.

A gate. "I see," she nods. But what a curious thing to wait for, the student wonders, fumbling with the buttons of her black coat.

"And you?" Ichigo asks, after a long pause.

"Nothing particular, really, just walking around," she shrugs.

Ichigo notices her eyes frequently rest on the glass-encased, several-stories high displays of actual gardens, lakes and old houses and shabby food stands - a history student, she said. For somebody who frequents this park, she must have wished she saw firsthand how these places were before becoming displays: living.

Ichigo never stayed in his old house in the entirety of his 8-year liaison deployment in the human world, because it was simply no longer there. His old town area made way for smart, full-glass apartment buildings.

"Well, if you still have time, mister, I'm meaning to drink something, would you, I mean, I mean while waiting, of course - would you like to have some...?" she asks offhandedly after a minute.

"I'm sorry I can't," Ichigo answers quietly, "I'll be home soon."

"Ahh, alright," but the student does not look dejected, if anything, she accepts, nods, and continues the topic anyway.

"You talk as if you came from a long way, are you from around here?"

"Yeah - I grew up here, but me and my wife live far," Ichigo says. In the afterlife.

 _-that_ he is: married, albeit unsurprising. The student still did not expect him to be, then she laughs, hoping he isn't somehow irritated by her questioning, people barely stop to talk to each other face-to-face nowadays. "How long you two have been married?" she asks, and tightens her coat around her, briefly pausing to notice the city made the wind too cold tonight.

"A hundred years tomorrow," Ichigo states simply, consciously, and checking to see her reaction.

He is expecting her to put up any shocking reaction, but other than her eyebrows raising, it seems she's easily accepting of the fact. The current natural lifespan hasn't changed much, it's still something between 60 and 70, he thinks, but better medications and gene editing got further, it's technically possible to live for more than a hundred years, but not remain young-looking. He expects her to question that at least.

"A hundred years?" she laughs nervously. "That's - well, that would be awfully long for me, but I guess, it's wonderfully long for you? Oh - wait, is that why you're coming home? A centennial wedding anniversary, isn't?" she quips, thumbing her backpack's strap.

Ichigo does not answer - but perhaps he is.

One hundred years - looking back - isn't so daunting. Rukia and him maintained a kind of routine, satisfied in what they share and don't share with one another. Also, they take frequent afternoon naps.

"I married my friend…and she's older by multiple lifetimes and berates me a lot," he says, "just...just imagine that."

"How old is she exactly?"

"About 300 this year."

The student is not fazed by the absurdity of his story, if anything, she looks away - towards a preserved _takoyaki_ stand - and her forehead creases.

"Are you trying to make me think she looks like a hag? Someone with...with ghoulish eyes and papery skin?"

Ichigo laughs a little, "she wouldn't mind if someone thought she looks like a hag. We live in the afterlife, but she'll meet me here."

"I don't understand where this conversation is headed, mister...?" Her head tilts. it must be, she muses, that the late evening/early morning hour has caught with her.

"Go home," Ichigo tells her mildly, warm like family.

"Wha...t?"

Soon, he gets up.

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The student keeps to herself some minutes after, and thinks about her conversation with the oddly attractive, doubtedly _very old_ , orange-haired man. He said he is over 100 years old, and he married his friend who is over 300 years old, and she is some sort of a hag, and they are living in the afterlife - it is strange.

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When she leaves her seat, she caught a glimpse of orange - the strange man! - talking to a woman with black hair and wearing a white _furisode -_ she is definitely _not_ a hag.

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a/n: i'm not convinced kaien is rukia's first love. also, this isn't over.


	8. Chapter 8

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how their secret-marriage got out:

Rukia, who has a SWA lifetime membership which grants an all-access to all things SWA-related, is entitled to a monthly complimentary copy of its magazine and it arrived this morning.

Ichigo feels it's outrageous that he has a full-page picture plastered in the monthly SWA Magazine and in it's accompanying Special Calendar: Men of Seireitei year edition.

"Motherfucking little shi-!" Ichigo seethes, his voice reverberates to the thin paper walls and fusuma doors. They are in Rukia's office.

There are much paperwork to be done, a grocery list to go through, and a home decoration to attend to today, but Rukia is mildly amused at the idea of her husband breaking down over calendar pictures so she'll spare him some time.

"Nii-sama doesn't think much of it," comes his wife's calm reply, a jasmine tea cup at hand.

There's a ranking and the calendar was patterned after a 'fruit of the month' theme. Byakuya was obviously ranked first and a "Plum Prince" for November. Ichigo got "Watery Strawberry" for March which happened to be a humid, berry-picking month. He ranked second - for what seemed like the 92nd consecutive time - as per the magazine. It's true that her brother doesn't think much of it, apart from some damaging gossip stories, he doesn't care about anything else the magazine does. Byakuya has maintained his ranking, he debuted in and never left the top spot for more than 400 years.

"This is fucking privacy breach!How the hell was this picture even taken?!" Ichigo waves his magazine page feature at his amused wife who isn't really trying to hide her enjoyment. She doesn't understand, he thinks angrily.

On the page is an image of him at the 13th Division shower room, leaning on the sink with nothing but a short, white towel wrapped around his narrow waist. It's a side shot though, his hair damp against the late afternoon sun, water droplets all over him and for some reason, the camera captured how he was intensely looking at the mirror.

"The SWA officers hire the 2nd Division Covert Corps to take pictures - it was costing us a lot, really. A hard bargain, you know," Rukia shrugs.

"Hey - aren't you a least bit concerned?" asks Ichigo, like a scandalized virgin.

The morning started good today and the sky was a mix of violet and blue and orange hues when he woke up and none of his trainees were knocked down after the first hit and he was really looking forward to their lunch together: salmon and saffron rice - and then he had to see this.

Rukia starts, "Ichigo, you've been featured in this magazine 92 times-"

Ichigo gasps.

"-I thought you're used to it by now."

"Ninety-two times?"

"Yearly, Ichigo, since you came and registered as a shinigami." Rukia stands up, and explains quite patiently and a matter of factly, "don't you notice these ladies ogling you when you go on practice - you have a penchant for taking off your shirt, do you know that? They know what hotspring you go to. So naturally, they voted for you."

Ichigo can't believe he's hearing this from his own wife. Rukia reaches and takes his hand and takes him to one of her drawers, and pulls a drawer - inside is a full stack of SWA magazines and a spring folder filled with glossy, high-definition pages of his stolen images - presumably all 91 of his stills.

"Rukia, why the fuck do you even have these?" Ichigo asks sharply.

"Nanao-san sends them to me before publication," she shrugs, "she probably thinks I like looking at them."

"And why would you keep them?"

And Rukia, an elegant, beautiful Lady of the Kurosaki-Kuchiki household and a captain, admits to him, and shrugs for the 3rd time, "maybe I do like looking at them."

Ichigo screams.

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But Rukia understands that he is deeply uncomfortable, so during the evening, she sends a letter to Nanao to formally ask for Ichigo's removal in the yearly calendar and ranking. Because the magazine lists only the eligible bachelors in Seireitei, the only way to do that is to formally announce their decades-long marriage.

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(the day his 92nd photo was taken was when he was with Rukia at the shower and he was looking at her from the mirror while getting dressed because they just had sex)

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End file.
